


Patience

by antheiasilva



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Gen or Pre-Slash, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Jedi sex ed, M/M, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Padawan Anakin Skywalker, lineage feels, prudish Obi-Wan, sexually liberal Jedi, teenage jedi awkwardness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 08:54:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19866898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antheiasilva/pseuds/antheiasilva
Summary: At his wits' end with seventeen year old Anakin, Obi-Wan lands on Qui-Gon's couch with all of his exasperation and only some of his dignity.--“Would you like me to talk to him?” Qui-Gon ventured.“What would you say that you haven’t already said?” Obi-Wan lamented.Qui-Gon looked his almost-gracefully flustered former padawan in the eyes and offered with a shrug, “Anakin, now listen, it’s Obi-Wan’s couch too?”





	Patience

**Author's Note:**

> A short vignette, but potentially to be expanded!
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy this, because Obi-Wan sure isn't.

“That’s it! I can’t take it anymore! That boy is going to be the death of me!” Obi-Wan was on the verge of shouting as he burst into Qui-Gon’s quarters. 

“What’s this now, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon asked, looking up from his datapad and sliding off his reading glasses.

“Tell me I wasn’t that bad!”

Qui-Gon huffed as he folded his glasses and placed them on the bookshelf beside his armchair. “You couldn’t have been bad if you _tried_ ,” he said fondly. “You were…. How shall I put it? A very _restrained_ teenager.”

“Why couldn’t _I_ get a ‘very restrained teenager’ as a padawan?” Obi-Wan lamented, pitching himself onto the couch and heaving an exasperated sigh.

“What has our Anakin done this time?” Qui-Gon asked, rising from the armchair and heading straight into the kitchen to boil water for tea. 

“I _told_ him that if he’s going to have guests over, he needs to at least _alert_ me. And if he is engaging in any…” Obi-Wan paused and scowled as a flush overtook his cheeks “... intimate… activities, then he needs to be in his room, preferably with the door locked.” 

“Ah...” Qui-Gon said, blinking. He sighed as he filled the kettle at the sink. “So….you..?” He couldn’t quite bring himself to finish the sentence, letting the noise of the running water take over. Obi-Wan’s magnificent blush said everything. Poor Obi-Wan. Seventeen year old Anakin was proving to be quite the challenge.

“Again, Qui-Gon. Again. This is the third time. I don’t know what to do! Do I report him? Surely, there has to be something in the Code that forbids this…this….” Obi-Wan was gesticulating with a distinctly un-Obi-Wan-like fervour. Few topics could rile Knight Kenobi to such an extent these days. Qui-Gon suppressed a bubble of fondness as he was reminded of a much younger, much more excitable Obi-Wan. He scanned the row of tea-tins and selected a mild, caff-less herbal. 

“Sex?” Qui-Gon said bluntly, filling the teapot with the fragrant leaves. He never understood Obi-Wan’s reticence (embarrassment? prudishness?) when it came to sex, and he had long since discovered that a direct approach was both necessary and tended to result in less squirming over all.

“Disrespect! I mean, for Force’s sake, it’s my couch too. I have to _sit_ on it.” Obi-Wan shuddered. He leaned his elbows on his knees and stroked his chin, brows furrowed. “I wonder if I can get the quarter master to replace it. I can spill caff on it or --”

“Would you like me to talk to him?” Qui-Gon ventured. The kettle buzzed and he poured the hot water into the blue ceramic pot and set it on a tray with two green mugs. 

“What would you say that you haven’t already said?” 

Fair point. He had already checked in with Anakin a few times since Obi-Wan had sat him down for ‘the talk’ two years ago. He set the tray down on the low table in front of the couch and hmmed as he took a seat beside Obi-Wan. He looked his almost-gracefully flustered former padawan in the eyes and offered with a shrug, “Anakin, now listen, it’s Obi-Wan’s couch too?”

Obi-Wan groaned. “I swear, I’ve half a mind to insist he take rooms in the padawan’s wing.”

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. That seemed excessive. Perhaps a lateral approach. “What about the other padawan’s master?” he asked gently.

“Masters. Other padawans - plural- masters,” Obi-Wan spat. 

Qui-Gon blinked and felt the hints of his own blush. “Ah.” He busied himself pouring tea.

“Yes.”

Qui-Gon patted Obi-Wan’s shoulder and handed him a mug. He sighed, wishing he had some more useful words of wisdom for him. “It’s a phase some padawans go through. It will pass. Be patient.”

“Patient! It’s been almost a year of this. I know, because he doesn’t shield very well sometimes.”

Qui-Gon grimaced. “I’m sorry Obi-Wan.”

At that, Obi-Wan seemed to settle somewhat. He turned his attention to his cup. Qui-Gon watched his shoulders relax as he breathed in the steam, eyes closed. He took a tentative sip and then his eyes flew open again.

“Wait! What padawans!?,” he said, rounding on Qui-Gon. “None of my friends… ever came close. And I _certainly_...”

Qui-Gon chuckled. Oh the stories he could tell Obi-Wan. Someday. Perhaps. He smiled reassuringly. “No, no. You and Quinlan were very discreet. I was lucky,” he said -- before remembering that he wasn’t supposed to know. 

Obi-Wan nearly dropped his cup.


End file.
